129. Leaves and Branches

  The outrealmers had made it to the top of the Realm. As soon as they did, the urgent items on their secret to-do list took a backseat to the local customs.

  Serac and Zacko were, for all intents and purposes, the newest members of the Kronvakt. As such, the first order of business was a lengthy on-boarding process, starting with a tour of the facilities by a designated local guide.

  As luck would have it, their guide for the occasion—‘someone in the Kronvakt to take you under their fins’, in King Tyr’s words—was none other than Hilde Vindsdatter, well-known to the outrealmers as Prince Sicko’s perhaps equally unhinged manta-ray girlfriend. Not to mention one of the most recent souls Serac Edin had smited.

  “You’re here. Let’s get started then. I haven’t got all day.”

  If Hilde had any hard feelings about how the Realmhunt had ended… she certainly made no attempt to hide them. After the warm, friendly welcome, she broke into a brisk walk without waiting for an answer. The tour had started, and the outrealmers were already scrambling to keep up.

  Putting all prejudices aside, the Krongardians’ palace was a true marvel of Yaksha engineering: seamless blending of verdant nature with functional living and Realm-ruling. It consisted of a massive, central bulb and five arterial boughs flaring out in all the cardinal directions. The whole thing was integrated with and enveloped by the giant evergreen leaves that made up the canopy.

  The Crown-leaves especially drew Serac’s curiosity, not only for their vibrant colors but also for their size and heft. She’d passed through plenty of forests up and down the Realmtree, but they all paled in comparison to the Crown. Its sheer scale was the clearest reminder that the entire Realm was one BIG tree.

  “Not only that”—Trippy did what he did best: poking holes in an otherwise perfectly pleasant picture—“but the climate here is also unseasonably warm. Green leaves and favorable weather in the middle of winter. No wonder the royals prefer to hole up here.”

  Now that Trippy had mentioned it, Serac did start to feel a bit toasty in her woolen tunic. Another point of difference between the haves and have-nots of Pretjord. So much for eating at the same table, Mr King, Serac grumbled to herself.

  Credit where credit was due; for all her terse manners, Hilde did play the dutiful tour guide, giving the outrealmers a thorough rundown of life in the palace. First, Serac and Zacko were shown to the main concourse upon the central bulb. Known simply as the Bulb, it was a vast, circular garden complete with a fountain, flower beds (in bloom despite the season!), and mini-waterfalls. Again, a far cry from the snowy Roots the outrealmers had just vacated. Most relevant to their mission, however, was the presence of the Realm’s third and final Hubstation. A giant lotus flower sat inside a fountain, making for a pretty visual of water cascading over translucent petals.

  “If you take the stairs up, you’ll get to the Apical Bough, or the royal chambers. But no need to worry concern yourselves with that, I’d imagine. Off to that side of the Crown are the Western Bough or the Kronheer barracks, and the Southern Bough—storage, laundry, the brig, that sort of thing. Doubt you’ll be spending much time in any of those places, but there they are.”

  At the mention of ‘brig’, Serac glanced at Zacko, trying to catch his eyes. The Manusya, on the other hand, stonewalled her. Serac quickly realized her near-error and looked away. What am I doing? It’s like I want these people to know what Zacko and I are after. Gotta learn to be more subtle!

  “That’s enough of that,” Hilde said, showing no sign she’d noticed anything untoward. She then spread her pectoral fin to point in the opposite direction. “Let me take you to your quarters, then I’ll get you both fitted.”

  The ‘fitting’ referred to kitting out the outrealmers with their very own Frostkrill armor. The armorer was a rather neurotic lionfish with an impressive set of spiked fins. He ushered Serac and Zacko one by one into a private chamber, where he took their measurements and fashioned their new armors on the spot, fast-muttering to himself all the while.

  Serac went first. A simple cuirass to cover her chest and abdomen—the ‘vital organs’, so to speak. The lionfish had nearly cut out a ‘fin-slit’ in the back of the cuirass, before remembering himself and eyeing Serac dubiously. At any rate, the armor itself glimmered jade-green in a way Serac had come to associate with Zealous magic. Which tempered her surprise as Pathsight messaged her the moment she put it on:

  [Trinket acquired: ABYSSAL PLATE]

  [Realm of Origin: PRETJORD]

  [Trinket Description: If you gaze into the abyss long enough, the abyss may gift you a piece of itself just to make you go away. When the Abyssal Plate is used to intercept an attack, it negates the incoming damage on the Wayfarer, while its Durability is reduced accordingly. The Abyssal Plate is destroyed when its Durability reaches zero.]

  [ABYSSAL PLATE Durability: 100%]

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  Predictably enough, the good news was followed by a dose of bad:

  [Burden: 15/35 (Burdened) -> 37/35 (Overburdened)]

  [Poise: 67 -> 15 (Penalty)]

  [Wayfarer Status Effect: OVERBURDENED]

  “Wow, neat! Is there a way to ‘heal’ the Durability? How long do these things last? Can I get a new one if this one goes kaput?”

  The lionfish armorer gaped at Serac with wide eyes, as if just being spoken to by his client was some great affront. He let out a huffy cough before speed-answering all the questions in order.

  “No. Depends. And does Frostkrill carapace grow on trees? If you want a new Plate, you’ll have to requisition it through your superiors. Next!”

  Why were Pretjordians so uptight and such… sticklers? So many rules and regulations. Tighter than a nun’s bumhole, in Zacko’s sophisticated words. If a Realm were meant to be a reflection of its ruler, Serac couldn’t quite square Pretjord’s stickler ways with her image of King Tyr. Which could only mean…

  But before she had a chance to think on it further, she was forced to switch places with Zacko. The Manusya gave Serac’s new outfit a once-over, winked in appreciation, then wore his usual sardonic smile into the fitting room.

  Serac waited outside, stuck with Hilde Vindsdatter as her only company. She tried to extend an olive branch in the form of an awkward smile, only to be met by a silent stare, though not necessarily an unfriendly one. Serac would take it.

  She stood next to the manta-ray Yaksha, resigned to spending the next few minutes in uncomfortable silence. Much to her surprise, however, the silence was cut short by Hilde herself. And if that was surprising, it was nothing compared to the woman’s actual words:

  “You and the Manusya…” Hilde spoke in a low voice, shy and conspiratorial. “Are you two…?”

  “Partners? Yup!” Serac couldn’t reply fast enough, so delighted was she to have her olive branch accepted. “Been at it since the lowest pits of Naraka, if you can believe it!”

  “I see,” Hilde said slowly, looking strangely relieved. But then her expression tightened again, as if she just remembered something urgent. “Just to be clear, when you say partners, you mean…?”

  “Uh, yeah, Wayfaring partners,” Serac clarified, though she herself was a little mystified by Hilde’s line of questioning. “A working relationship, I guess you could say? We smite things together and watch each other’s backs.”

  “That’s it?” Hilde pressed, suddenly looking alarmed for gods knew what reason! “You’re not… you don’t share…?”

  “Karma? Sure we do! We try to even out the smiting blow bonuses as best we can, but you know how these things go. It’s not always easy to—”

  “No!” The Yaksha cut in sharply. So sharply, in fact, that it made Serac jump. “I’m asking if you two share a bed! Are you lovers?”

  Serac’s cinnabar face first paled into rose-pink, before flushing a deep crimson. Somewhere inside her head, Trippy was bombarded by all the tell-tale signs of a fight-or-flight response.

  “No!” Serac cried, matching Hilde in volume. “We’re nothing like that! Never been, and never will be. M—me and Za—Zacko? That’s crazy! You’re crazy!”

  Serac was about ready (desperate) to laugh the whole thing off… but froze when she saw the expression on the other woman’s face. For Hilde Vindsdatter was absolutely crestfallen by Serac’s emphatic denial of a romantic liaison between her and Zacko.

  “I see,” Hilde said again, much quieter. She then straightened her shoulders and averted her gaze, noticeably paler than a moment ago. The olive branch now lay on the ground between the two women, overshadowed by an elephant in the room.

  Just what has gotten into her? Serac racked her brains to no avail. She was, quite possibly, more mystified than she’d ever been on her entire journey. Trippy? A little help?

  “I believe,” Trippy, weirdly well-versed in the amorous sciences, offered his two ?, “this is a classic case of marking one’s territory.”

  Territory? But what’s that got to do with Za—

  A flash of inspiration. Serac suddenly understood what this was all about… starting with the fact it didn’t have anything to do with Zacko.

  “If you’re worried about me and Rathor,” Serac blurted before giving herself a chance to evaluate her options, “I can assure you I’m not interested.”

  Hilde slowly tilted her head, before meeting Serac’s gaze with half-narrowed eyes.

  “Don’t believe me? Let me list all the ways I can’t stand that guy. He’s a spoiled brat. He’s cocky, selfish, inconsiderate. The kind of soul who loves himself more than he could ever learn to love someone else. I mean, just look at the way he treats you! Not to mention all that stuff about Ren—ahem… Point is, I find him repulsive, and there’s no Realm where I’d ever consider sharing anything with him, least of all a b—b—b—bed! So yeah, you have nothing to worry about from—ow!”

  Serac exclaimed, more out of reflex than as a real pain response. For Hilde had suddenly punched her in the chest… only for the impact to be absorbed by the brand new [Abyssal Plate].

  [ABYSSAL PLATE Durability: 100% -> 97%]

  Serac reached for her holster, ready to fight back if need be. But then she quickly saw the broad smile on the manta-ray’s face.

  “I won’t apologize, Rakshasa.” Hilde spoke with an unmistakable lilt of joyous celebration. It was a wonder she didn’t break out in song, right then and there. “I could have you court-martialed for dragging our Captain’s name through the mud. So, be grateful I’ve only gone so far as to dent your [Plate]. Well… it looks like our armorer is finished with the Manusya. Come, there’s still more of the palace for you to see.”

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